Writings

Saint Paul Almanac 2012-2013

Inchworms and God- Amy Clark

There was no fear when we were ten. We saw a country called Viet Nam on WCCO when we ate dinner on our TV trays from Shell Oil, but that would go away at the turn of a knob. Mr. Grader’s son went to a party and someone put LSD in his pop, but he was sent away. Macalester College was planning another demonstration, and we could watch, but we had to go inside if it got too loud. Life was simple then, because if it got uncomfortable, it could be made to go away.

We were all sat on the curb and waited for the inchworm man to come. That summer millions of inchworms had infested the trees in Macalester- Groveland. The first truck had gone by warning all kids and pets to go inside, so you wouldn’t get poison on you. We loved all the clouds of spray the truck would make and we delighted in watching the inchworms drop from the trees. It was like a scene out of Horror Incorporated.

On this particular day of inchworm slaughter, we were in front of our buddies’ house. My buddy’s house was crazier than ours. We were all Catholics in our neighborhood and pretty much knew that God had pretty strict, but decent rules. We went to church and we were all trying to stay out of hell. We were unprepared when God spoke to us.

The voice boomed from above, “Children stay where you are and look at the ground! This is God who spoke to Moses like in that burning bush with Charleton Heston, plagues and that freaky angel of death!“

We all stayed still and looked at the gravel in the gutter. “Do you really think it’s God or the inchworm man?” said my buddy.

“I think it’s God because he comes out of nowhere and scares the bejesus out of people!”

“Let’s take a peek.” whispered my buddy.

“What if we die and we don’t get to watch our Friday night shows. You know this is the night the Brady’s go to Hawaii. I am not missing Greg on a surfboard!” I said. I was totally in love with Greg Brady.

God was singing Nights in White Satin when the police came to a stop in front of us. My buddy yelled to the police not to look up. The police looked at us kind of strange and asked what was going on. “We were waiting for the inchworm man to come and God started singing to us.” my buddy said.

“Does God sing to you two all the time?” he asked.

“Well, no. Come to think of it I’ve never really heard his voice. I always thought he sounded like Monsignor Steiner, not Peter Frampton.” my buddy said.

“Well geniuses, it’s not God. It’s a kid on a roof with a Mr. Microphone, smokin’ weed. I suggest you two get on your bikes and go to the park. Understand?” We jumped on our bikes and pedaled as fast as we could down to Mattocks park.

At the park, we were talking about what God would sing if he was on American Bandstand and if he would wear a fringe vest or not. The cop cruiser drove by. My buddy’s oldest brother was in the back swaying and looking happy. We got back on our bikes and headed back to my house to watch the Brady Bunch.We forgot about my buddy’s brother, drugs, God and the cops. Life was easier with the Brady’s in Hawaii.

Amy Clark, artist and teacher, has lived in Mac-Grove forever. It still has it’s wild moments, but nothing like the early 70’s.